by Shey Stahl
Patting my leg, I wanted her on my lap again. She smiled. “Is that a good idea? Last time I was on your lap you couldn’t control yourself.”
“I’ll do better,” I whispered into her damp hair as I slipped my hand inside of hers, intertwining our fingers.
“What pushed you to do it?” she asked, my chin resting on her shoulder.
“My dad, mostly.” My brows scrunched instinctively; they always did anytime I spoke of my father. “I had to know what made him so dedicated to it, the four a.m. runs and the twice a day work-outs. And then, once I fought someone for the first time, I saw it. Or more so, felt it. It instills a power, both physically and mentally, that I’ve never experienced anywhere else. I wasn’t afraid of anyone, including myself. Inside the ring, my fate was up to me. Nobody else.”
Bringing our joined hands higher to rest them on her stomach, I felt the contentment of her shallow breathing as she spoke. “So, it was more that you wanted to understand him, rather than be like him?”
“I wouldn’t necessarily say that. I did want to be like him. But I also wanted to feel what drove him forward. I was never very good at understanding him. Yeah, we were close and I was pretty much his shadow from the time I was born. I went everywhere with him. But once I was old enough to develop my own craft, I was fascinated with his dedication to something that gave little in return, aside from monetary awards and fame. I couldn’t see what it gave him inside, until I experienced it myself. Inside the ring, he was the model of discipline and motivation. Outside of it, he was merely an alcoholic but a good father.”
Tallan seemed to understand that, sighing with a subtle nod.
“I’m….” Swallowing, you would have thought I was nervous. “I’m taking my dad to dinner on Monday night. Would you like to come with us?”
“I would love to.” I heard the smile in her words.
Moments like this, I was in control of the next twelve weeks until that fight. Maybe it was because Tallan was beside me, holding me up through it all.
I knew I couldn’t rely on her though. Not in the way she would let me down, but in the way that I needed this to be about me and no one else.
Nothing was for sure until that bell rang.
To throw a fight. To intentionally pretend to get knocked out by a light punch, thus intentionally losing the fight. A fixed fight with an unlawful prearranged outcome.
12 WEEKS UNTIL WBO TITLE FIGHT
“I need a favor.”
I hated those words. Even more so when they were delivered by my Uncle Danny. Here it was, six in the morning on a Saturday, and I knew he was going to ask for money again. It always started with the same words.
I noticed Tallan as she rounded the corner, dressed in her work-out clothes and carrying a water bottle. She stayed over by the weights, giving Danny and me space.
It took everything I had not to stare at her ass in those black yoga pants.
“How much?” I didn’t look up as I spoke; instead, I tied my shoes preparing to do some weights after my morning run. Still a little winded from the eight miles, my breathing was beginning to even out.
“Two.” Danny shuffled his feet impatiently.
He didn’t have to expand on it, nor did he mean two hundred. He meant two thousand. “I don’t have it.” I finally looked up, wishing he’d get his fucking shit together, yet I think this was the first time I’d told him “no” in a while. “I paid for Dad’s rent. I’m tapped for a while.”
Drawing in a deep breath, Danny stood, his voice wavering. “Thanks, kid.”
He was in deep again, how, I had no idea.
When the metal door leading to the bar closed, Tallan made her way over to me. Assessing me, she ran her hands over my shoulders as I sat on the bench, my legs pulled up, arms wrapped around them.
Resting my chin on my knees, I stared straight ahead at the door, wishing there was a way to make him see this was no way to live. If he’d give up the gambling, it’d be so much easier for him. It had to take guts to come to his nephew and ask for money constantly, but then again, when he was in that deep, did it really matter who he asked?
Probably not.
“Are you okay?” Tallan rubbed my shoulders, her touch relaxing.
“I’m fine.” Twisting my head, I kissed her knuckles and then spun around to rest my feet flat on the mats. I maneuvered Tallan so she stood between my legs.
My arms hung loosely around her hips as I looked up at her blinking slowly. “Did you miss me this morning?”
“I did.” Her hands threaded in my damp hair. “So, I decided to come to you.”
I groaned looking away. “Don’t say come for the next twelve weeks.”
Tallan tossed her head back, giggling. “So now we have rules on words we can’t say around one another?”
“We do.” Lifting up her white T-shirt, I kissed her bare skin above her waistband, my lips making slow passes back and forth. “Come is one of them.”
She tugged on my hair making me look up at her. “You’re not helping yourself by kissing me.”
“You’re right.” Standing, I slowly brought her body flush against mine and then lifted her up with ease. “You being around me isn’t helping.”
“I’m a distraction,” she noted, bringing her mouth to mine. My lips moved with hers, so sweet and soft.
Fuck this was hard. But I didn’t miss the sadness in her tone. “You’re a distraction for sure.” I made a few steps to my left, around the bench and pressed her back flush with the wall. I let her down securely on the floor. Moving down her body with open-mouthed kisses, she attempted to push me away but I couldn’t stop myself. She smelled too good, felt too good. I was blinded by my thoughts of only her and the way she made me feel.
On my knees now, I was working her shirt up, telling myself to stop but then making promises that I wouldn’t fuck her. I’d only kiss her.
As quickly as I made them, I was re-negotiating.
I’ll just touch her. Maybe get her off again….
Hell, while I’m at it….
Stop it, you weak bastard.
Tallan’s hands fisting in my shirt, fingers clenching, forced me back an inch, though she was no match for my strength. “Destry.” Her breathy tone did nothing for my need. No fucking way I was making it twelve weeks. Adam told me a minimum of six weeks, so in theory, I had some time to work myself into this. “If you keep this up, we’ll be having sex again.”
She was right. Last night she stayed over and I basically woke up dry humping her ass and that ended in us fucking at four this morning.
“I know… to—”
“Don’t say tomorrow.” Her legs spread another inch, my face buried in her center, breathing in deep. So good, fuck… a little taste wouldn’t hurt. “You can’t keep your promises.”
I was getting ready to pull her pants down and fuck her against the wall, past negotiating with myself, when Adam opened the door to the basement. He shook his head when I stood up and backed away from Tallan, who jumped and righted her shirt.
“I thought I told you to knock that shit off,” Adam noted, setting his gym bag on the floor near the ring and reaching inside for tape and gauze. He held it in his palm, peering down at it. “But I can see you’re not listening to me.”
Sighing deeply, I winked at Tallan. Standing, I kept her close with my arm securely around her waist. “She’s hard to resist.”
Adam wasn’t sure about Tallan. He wasn’t sure about a lot of people, always apprehensive of their motives. Given my dealings with Wes, my old manager, and Stella, I suppose he had a right to be.
Tallan was different. Even when she lied about the article, her intentions were clear. Me. I was in her best interest.
“All right.” Adam nodded to the ring, tossing his hat down on his bag. “Ready for some work?”
Tallan’s eyes widened, annoyed I was laughing about this. “Yep.”
Adam and I sat back down on the bench as he wrapped my hands for some work on t
he bags this morning. I knew I was going to need to start sparring soon but Adam had a meticulous training plan in mind and I went with whatever he said.
Tallan kept her distance, working out for an hour on various leg workouts I designed for her. I took pride in knowing she’d kept up with what I taught her since she came wandering into this dingy basement looking for help.
I had no idea what to expect when I first met Tallan, and once I got to know her, she was nothing like I expected. She was more and someone I was completely comfortable around. I was even ready to share everything about my life with her, as troubled as most of it would be.
This is the amount of money generated on-site from the sale of tickets.
Around ten, Adam and I had finished up for the morning and agreed to meet back at the gym around four to spar with a boxer out of Portland named Mugsy. I had no idea what his real name was, that was what he went by because people said he looked like a French bulldog. I had to agree on that one.
I needed a shower but I ran out of drinking water downstairs and needed to fill my water bottle up. Tallan sat at a corner table, laptop open, sipping on water when I went upstairs. Danny was nowhere to be found. It was a good thing the bar wasn’t busy because it was apparently serve yourself up here.
Two regulars sat hunched around their morning Bloody Mary’s talking baseball and every other sport they felt deserved their critiquing. Leaning over the table, I set my chin on Tallan’s shoulder. “Have you seen Danny anywhere?”
Her head shot up, startled by my voice in her ear. “Oh, he’s uh….” Looking around, she pointed to the office. “I think he’s in there.”
He was probably calling around to his friends who might lend him money, the ones he had left that he hadn’t used up all his resources with.
Sitting beside her, I took her water and drank it, smirking as I did so. “Are you still working on articles or the book now?”
“I think I’m going to do a few things, but I have enough saved that I can work on the book for three months and still be okay financially.”
“Sounds like you have a plan.” Adam walked by, clasping my shoulder and winking at Tallan. “See ya in a few hours, D.”
I gave him a nod and then looked back at Tallan. “Twice a day.”
“Wow, that’s intense.”
“You gotta be when you start training camp.”
“And Adam, he’s training you for that? Did he teach you how to box?”
“Adam is my trainer, yeah, but he didn’t train me on how to fight. Peta taught me how to fight. How to throw a punch and land one. Adam didn’t come in until I was eighteen. He’s my corner man too. His ability to keep me calm in the corner is what matters.”
“What’s a corner man?” she asked, completely enthralled in our conversation that she was now staring intently at me, hands folded under her chin.
“In a pro boxing match, there are a couple guys in the corner of the ring to assist the boxer during the one minute intervals.”
“Then get the fuck out of my bar if you’re not gonna pay your tab!” Danny snapped at Waylon, the near eighty-year-old fixture at the end of the bar.
Old Waylon paid him no mind, at least not verbally. They went at it for a minute and Danny’s stare moved to mine. I gave him a look, one that said, “What the fuck are you doing?”
There were a few guys in the bar who usually had one or two beers a week there, Waylon was one of them. Danny never charged them, as there was no need. It wasn’t like two beers a week broke this fuckin’ bar.
Danny was bent he was once again spread thin by his own doings. He was damn near fifty. He should have had his life together by now and not in this situation repeatedly.
“What’s that about?”
I turned back to Tallan. “Nothing.”
Tallan’s eyes held mine despite the noise and commotion in the bar, her expression changing. Squinting, her nose scrunched. “Can I ask questions about Stella for the book?”
I’d considered this when she asked me about the book. Stella was a part of my life from the time I was sixteen up until last year. That was eight years and during a time when I was thrown into fame and fortune and left wondering what was real, and wasn’t. “If you want.”
“Okay.” Eagerly Tallan reached inside her bag for a notepad and clicked her pen. “Can I ask them now?”
I raised an eyebrow, my lungs feeling constricted and compressed at the idea of Tallan knowing the ugly truth about me as a person. Would she still feel the same way after I told her my life? “You already have some in mind?”
“I do.” She glanced down at some notes she’d scribbled down. “When did you first meet her?”
Drawing a deep breath, I tried to recall the moment I noticed Stella Summers. It was outside this bar three days before Christmas. “I was what… fifteen? Yeah, fifteen. I had finished up working out and was outside warming up my car when I saw this girl sitting outside the bar, curled up in a coat and shivering. While I was confident inside the ring, around girls was entirely different. I couldn’t put one coherent word in front of another.” Tallan smiled, knowing that probably wasn’t true. But it was. “That night Stella Summers came crashing into my life.” I paused, wishing I hadn’t said that.
The way I said crashing, made me regret the words immediately. As if she’d made such an impact on me that I’d never be the same again. In reality, though, there was a little truth to that. Stella was, undoubtedly, my first love. They tend to have an effect on you. Kind of like Silas had on Tallan.
Tallan listened intently, making notes as I spoke in a lower tone, not wanting any of these drunks here to hear my life. “She was fourteen, basically homeless, having ran away from another foster home. We didn’t end up dating for another year but I soon realized I loved her. Anyway, we were young and stupid and having sex everywhere we could.” Drawing in a deep breath, I prepared to tell her what I had never told anyone. Not even my dad. “She wound up pregnant.”
She dropped her pen. “Oh, my God, really?”
“Yeah… when she told me, I was a hot-headed kid and pissed. After a week, I finally came around to the idea that I’d be a dad at seventeen. She said she had a miscarriage. To this day, I have no idea if that’s true or not. Or if the baby was really mine.”
She blinked, rapidly. “Jesus, I had no idea.”
Well, she wouldn’t have. Up until now, I’d never told anyone about Stella, other than we met as kids and fell in love young. “When I was with Stella, my life was a fucking mess.” My eyes moved from the table and now empty water glass to Tallan’s. “She craved the fame, money. She’d basically do anything for the spotlight. And she fit into that life well, always feeding off what it gave her. A world she never dreamed of having. Growing up in foster care, she was from one family to the next. And come eighteen, she was driving around in a Mercedes I bought her after winning my first title fight. I gave her everything she could ever dream of.”
“So, what happened once you started winning?”
“Life and the quest to be the best took its toll. I was gone, physically and mentally, too busy with my quest to become a heavyweight champion.”
“And when that finally happened?”
I shrugged. “I guess you could say I wasn’t satisfied. I wanted more and constantly had to prove I was better. A fighter, someone who chooses to use his fists as a way to make a living, he’s not like everyone else. The need to be better, train harder, give more, it’s never quite enough.”
In order to protect their fists in training and sparring, fighters wrap their hands in tape, gauze or cotton bandages that have specifically been designed for boxing.
“Can I ask about your mom?” Tallan’s question came a few minutes into the drive to Bellevue to pick my dad up for dinner.
“I don’t remember a lot about her. From the time I was a young, I was always with my father.” Looking over at Tallan for a second when traffic came to a standstill on the 520 bridge, I could see her attentio
n was on me, intently as if she were hanging on everything I said. “Danny and Peta used to joke when I was a kid, I went from my mother’s stomach to my father’s hand and never left. It was true in a sense. I never wanted to be with my mom. I loved her, but she left when I was only seven years old. I believe to this day it destroyed him completely. He may not have been faithful, but he loved only one woman his entire life.”
“So, you moved when you were seven, right?”
“Yeah, I was born in Boise and then my dad moved us to Seattle. Word was, Peta Gustafson was the best boxing trainer on the west coast. So, we moved to Peta.”
“And then your mom left?”
“It wasn’t right away, but it wasn’t long after he began training for a fight that she dropped me off at the bar and never returned.”
“Wow.” Tallan seemed disturbed, blinking rapidly and scribbling down a few notes. “That’s harsh.”
“I don’t know, I guess. My parents fought constantly and it normally started with my dad drinking, and then them fighting. Most of the arguments were about his inability to leave the opposite sex alone.”
“So, he cheated on her?” Her voice was small, timid even. I think she felt like at any moment I was going to shut down and tell her this shit was none of her business. I wasn’t sure if I wanted any of this in a book either, but for the first time, I was okay with talking about it openly.
“Yeah, I gathered that much at least. And then when they couldn’t numb whatever was haunting him, alcohol did. So, I suppose his infidelity and drinking is what really caused her to leave.”